


Silent Night

by Onlymystory



Series: 25 Days of Teen Wolf Christmas [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, canonical deaths referenced, reflections on death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the full moon falls on Christmas Eve, Stiles and Allison find themselves alone. They bond over shared anger and painful memories.</p><p>Not a fluffy fic.</p><p>Also, this is a platonic Stiles/Allison story. Stiles is dating Derek, Allison is with Scott, but the other two boys are only given a passing reference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> I have a long-ass author’s note at the end of this. Things to know in case of possible triggers. This is a Stiles/Allison bonding (platonically) fic. They’re discussing their dead moms and there’s some pretty intense anger and sorrow going on. Also mentions of suicide. Just fyi.

Allison and Stiles are “celebrating” Christmas Eve together. The holiday happened to coincide with the full moon that year and with everyone separated at college, full moons were a little troublesome.

Lydia was in France visiting her parents so the only humans around were Stiles and Allison. The two had kissed their respective boyfriends and told them not to worry.

Two hours later, Allison and Stiles were sitting on the roof of the Hale house, a little buzzed from the beers they’d shared, but not so tipsy as to forget what day it was.

Stiles kept tracing runes onto the shingles while Allison took shots at tree branches with her crossbow.

She took another shot before turning towards Stiles. “Your dad doesn’t want you home to spend Christmas Eve with him?”

Stiles tossed his bottle off the roof, letting out a harsh cheer when it smashed against a tree. “Dad tends to spend Christmas with his best friend Jack. Has since Mom died.”

Allison looked away. “Mine’s gotten real chummy with Johnny over the last few years.”

“Yeah well, nothing says holidays like dead mothers and drunk fathers,” noted Stiles. He threw another empty bottle in the air and Allison shot it.

“Is it wrong that I hate her?” asked Allison. She motioned at Stiles, who tossed another empty bottle for her. “I wish she was here and everyone is always so sympathetic but I wish they’d just be honest. She fucking killed herself.”

“My mom took a triple dose of sleeping pills and drowned herself in the bathtub.”

Allison missed the shot and the beer bottle shattered on the ground. “Your mom…?” It wasn’t an easy question to finish, especially since Stiles had never volunteered the information. They’d all just assumed she’d had cancer.

“Yeah,” answered Stiles. “I was nine and came in looking for her after playing outside.”

Allison waited silently, sensing Stiles had more to say.

“It was my fault,” continued Stiles. “I mean, on one level, it wasn’t, and I know that deep down, like I get that there was more going on with her and that it couldn’t have begun with me but still.” He laughed bitterly. “The therapist I was sent to said she suffered from postpartum depression and that the depression never went away. God I fucking hate that word. Why can’t they just leave it at depression when telling the family?”

He chucked one of the last bottles angrily, waiting to hear the smash before he kept going.

“Dad loves me. I know that. But postpartum…it’s the fucking kid, ya know. It’s not, like I get that it’s technically chemical imbalances and shit but that word still ties her problems to me. My existence triggered my mom’s meltdown. Or was the final straw. Whatever. And every once in a while, I can see Dad look at me and wonder if he’d still have her if she never had me. I know he loves me. I do. But it’s not like he can help having these thoughts anymore than I can.”

He paused. “It’s a shitty thing for an adult, a supposed professional, to tell a kid that his mom ended her life because of postpartum depression and then try to say I shouldn’t blame myself. Cuz of course I researched that shit. And ten years old doesn’t understand big pictures or other factors. We just get to grow up thinking we might as well have picked up a gun and pulled the trigger. It’s fucking bullshit.”

Allison set her crossbow down and took a long drink of her beer. “My mom sat on my bed to put a knife through her heart and she made my dad help her do it. She didn’t even try to deal with the werewolf side of things. Fuck. Yeah, she thought werewolves were monsters but I wonder a lot if she even considered what she was doing to me and my dad. If she even gave a shit.”

She took another drink, nearly finishing the bottle. “What kind of person kills herself on her daughter’s bed? How fucked up is that?!”

“Everyone thinks I’m supposed to be sad at Christmas,” said Stiles. “Like I carry around a burden but if I want to talk about memories they’ll listen.”

“I hate her,” said Allison again. “Sometimes. Sometimes I really fucking hate her.”

“Me too,” added Stiles.

The pair were quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts. After about an hour, Allison made her way off the roof.

Stiles followed her into the den. The pack would pile in once they returned but for now the massive collection of blankets and pillows were only there to engulf the two of them.

Stiles was okay with that.

He stretched out next to Allison, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

“I miss her.” Allison’s voice was soft and broken in the darkness. “I hate her some days and I understand her choice other times, but I miss her every day.”

Stiles was crying when he finally answered back. “I miss her now. When the moon glows on the snow and it seems like the world should be safe.”

“Some nights I’m scared I’ll forget her. Forget who she really was.”

Stiles’ voice broke. “Some nights I wonder if I already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> So a couple things. First, on the Victoria side of things, this is something that I really hope the show actually addresses. No matter how the Argents feel about werewolves, at the end of the day, Victoria still decided that her bias against werewolves was worth more than her husband and daughter. And you won’t ever find me trying to argue that as noble. It’s selfish. And to choose to end her life in Allison’s bedroom? I can’t imagine being Allison and going home after the hospital to see the after-effects. Because something tells me Chris wasn’t in a mindset to think about cleaning the sheets. I can absolutely understand Allison losing it (even if blaming Derek isn’t all that right either) but I hate Victoria’s choice.  
> Second, I realize we don’t know why Mama Stilinski died. Most of the time, I go with the sickness theory (or sometimes tie her death into supernatural stuff for the sake of a story). But Stiles is a smart kid who still canonically thinks his dad blames him for her death. So I wonder sometimes if there’s more to that story, not so much as a Stiles actually killed his mom or anything like that, but something where he could sometimes see it as his fault. Which brings us to the last point in this long note.  
> Third and finally, I am very much aware that this is just the tiniest picture and not a well-rounded or even perhaps perfectly accurate picture of depression. But Stiles’ rant is a real story of a good friend. Her mom suffered from severe depression and it took a turn from the worst after my friend was born. (Her mom committed suicide when my friend was six). The point I wanted to make in this was of a kid’s perspective. My friend told me once that it took a long time for her to realize that it wasn’t her fault because people kept saying the words “postpartum depression” around her and as a kid, she only figured out enough to blame herself. So I kind of wanted to explore that in this a little. Just giving Stiles and Allison a chance to be angry and hurting.  
> And I know this is way too long but as much as I love Christmas, I can get really fucking depressed around it, hence this fic. And I feel like sometimes people, especially adults, say things that are supposed to be well-meaning but their explanations just make shit worse.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, fyi, for those following my Christmas series, tomorrow is the culmination of my Christmas stories with a Sterek story full of smutty goodness. So I won't end this on a sad note.


End file.
